Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Songs
A little beer in the fridge (A little help from my friends Lennon/McCartney) A little beer in the fridge. My wife has left me, for a man on the sea, And left me alone with the kids. I tried to sell,May for a snip on eBay, But I just couldn't get any bids. I get by with a little beer in the fridge, I get high with a little beer in the fridge. What can I do now my wife is away, Can I play out all night, not go home? How will it look if she's gone off for good, Could I cope all the time on my own? I'll get by with a little beer in the fridge. I get high with a little beer in my fridge. Should I feed anybody? I need some food for the sprogs. Should I please anybody? I've plenty in for the dogs. Why she left me, when she looks such a fright That sailor must be out of his mind. Wait till he sees what she's like in daylight, She'll be back here in double quick time. Should I feed anybody? I need some food for the sprogs. Should I please anybody? I've plenty in for the dogs. I'll get by with a little beer in my fridge. I'll get by with a little beer in my fridge. A little beer in my fridge.
Acute Angina Nothing could be finer, Than my mans acute angina, In the morning. Nothing could be sweeter, Than to see him thump his meter, Whilst still yawning. Nothing could be slicker, Than to stop his dodgy ticker, With no warning. Nothing could be quainter, Than to go with that new painter, He's been scorning. Nothing could be nicer, Than to know I'll cash the ISA, Then go mourning. ISA: Pronounced Icer, a UK savings plan.
Tie the Covid 19 down We've got Covid 19, sport We've got Covid 19 We've got Covid 19, sport We've got Covid 19. It's worse than any world war, sport It's worse than any world war It's worse than any world war, sport Worse than any world war. We've been put in tier four, sport We've been put in tier four We've been put in tier four, sport We've been put in tier four. We're gonna get a vaccine, sport We're gonna get a vaccine We're gonna get a vaccine sport We're gonna get a vaccine. So the virus is stuffed, sport So the virus is stuffed So the virus is stuffed, sport So the virus is stuffed. Then we will go on the beer, sport Then we will go on the beer Then we will go on the beer, sport Then we will go on the beer. Here's to twenty two one, sport Here's to twenty two one Here's to twenty two one sport Here's to twenty two one. Here's two fingers to you, Covid Here's two fingers to you Here's two fingers to you, Covid Here's two fingers to you.
Tha'll need some PPE Tha's off to China for thee hols Tha'll need some PPE Tha's off to China for thee hols Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha's gonna need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha's gonna need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha's gone and caught this dreaded bug Tha'll need some PPE Tha's gone and caught this dreaded bug Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE So they've put thee in quarantine Tha'll need some PPE So they've put thee in quarantine Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE We're all confined to tier three Tha'll need some PPE We're all confined to tier three Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE But there's a vaccine on its way Tha'll need some PPE But there's a vaccine on its way Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha'll need some PPE Tha's forty one, tha's far too young Tha'll still need PPE Tha's forty one, Tha's far too young Tha'll still need PPE Tha'll still need PPE Tha'll still need PPE Tha'll: You will (pronounced tharll) Tha's: You are (pronounced thars) Thee: You
Hobbo: This song can be sung to Yorkshire’s own ‘National Anthem’, ‘On Ilkla’ moor b’aht’at.
Dauphy: What the heck does that mean?
Hobbo: Sorry Dauphy, forgot that you’re French. It means on ‘Ilkley Moor without a hat’. Here’s a video for those who don’t speak Tyke (Yorkshire).
Tiers (To Tears, a song by the late, great Ken Dodd) Tiers for covid fears are what you gave me Memories of a promise never kept You led me to believe lockdown's the answer After all these lonely hours I've wept (with no one). Tiers are my reward for isolation But tiers can't mend my mental health, I must confess Let's forgive our peers uptown Turn our tiers of lockdown Once more to tears of happiness. Tiers are my reward for isolation But tiers can't mend my mental health, I must confess Let's forgive our peers uptown Turn our tiers of lockdown Once more to tears of happiness. Let's forgive our peers uptown Turn our tiers of lockdown Once more to tears of happiness.
Things that I hate (To Favourite Things by Rodgers and Hammerstein) People who litter, and yobbos who spit Owners who thoughtlessly leave their dog's shit Wet windy weather and trains running late These are a few of the things that I hate. The devious ways that the con man will scam Reality stars who do not give a damn Guys who know better but discriminate These are a few of the things that I hate. Telephone calls where you don't get to speak Early hour visits to go for a leak Food in the fridge that's beyond sell by date These are a few of the things that I hate. When the sun shines When the birds sing When I'm feeling glad I simply remember the things that I hate And then I get really mad. (Repeat)
Little ol' beer drinker (To little ol' wine drinker, Dean Martin) I'm praying for rain in sunny Shropshire So the hops can swell and they can brew more beer And I'm standing in a chippy here in Bradford With a thumping head and a ringing in my ear. I ask the man behind the counter for an aspirin And he answers as he serves me pie and peas This is a chip shop not a bloody chemists I say, "Little ol' beer drinker me." I came here last week from up in Grimsby Cos my baby left for Clacton by the sea When they ask, "Who's the man who's got a cob on?" I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me." I ask the man behind the counter for an aspirin And he answers as he serves me pie and peas "This is a chip shop, not a bloody chemists" I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me." I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me." Little ol' beer drinker me. Cob...Northern slang for sulking
The way we were (to Bohemian Rhapsody by Freddie Mercury) I've had a real life Not tried no ecstasy Stuck to the Tetley's My escape from reality Tell you no lies Look back on my life and see Council estate boy, I got no sympathy Because my friends would come, friends would go Bullied high, bullied low Anyway I must grow,teachers turned a blind eye To me, to me. Mama, she tried her best Escaped whilst I still could Got a woman, did me good Mama, I invented love But now old age just took it all away Mama, aahhh It sure makes me want to cry The things I've lost, I won't get back tomorrow It's all gone, it's all gone Like the rain that pitter patters. Too late, the way we were Young people loads of time Bodies searching perfect rhyme Two a.m everybody, I've got to go Gotta get up from my bed and take a pee Mama, aahhh (any way the splash flows) I don't want to age I sometimes wish I'd never done anything dumb. I see a little nervous shadow of myself Too much beer, too much wine, banging all night on the banjo Boddington's and curry, always in a hurry, me Way we were oh, way we were oh Way we were oh, way we were oh Way we were has got to go, oh no, oh no. I'm just an old man, and nobody sees me He's just an old man, last in the family His Alzheimer's could be senility. Youth'll cry, youth'll sigh, let the old man die No way mate! No we will not let him die. Let him die No way mate. We will not let you die. Let him die No way mate! We will not let him die. Let him die Will not let him die. Let him die (never) Never, never, never, never, never let him die Why, why, why, why, why, why, why Oh God in heaven, God in heaven, God in heaven let me die In Wetherspoons has the barmaid raised a glass To me To me So you think you will not lose that glint in your eye So you think you can stay young and you'll never die Oh baby, it's impossible baby You're gonna grow old, you're gonna grow old before long Aahh yeah, aahhh yeah. Does life really matter Are we all born free Does life really matter Yes life really matters, to me. Anyway the mind goes.
The Gang of Four (sung to when I'm 64 by Lennon-McCartney) In the old days when Mac still had hair Thirty years ago District Training Centre, four young men in their prime Worked very hard, and had a good time. Instructor's bar till clock had turned three Better lock your door We'll steal your drink, or piss in your sink We're the Gang of Four. We are older now So if you want to know I will tell you how... Mac's in the kitchen, he is the cook Curries, pies and bread Edmo's still working, feeding the fam'ly Hope he stops before he is dead! Tony is gardening, planting his veg Fi, his new amour Like a good laugh, still have a giraffe Cos we're the Gang of Four. Often we will travel Out to Liverpool, and have a slap up meal It's a real good craic Hobbo, shaking like a shiting dog Edmo, Tony, Mac. Like a good laugh, still have a giraffe Cos we're the Gang of Four.
Staying (sung to Sailing by Rod Stewart) I am staying, I am staying Home again, who could foresee? I am staying, in my own home To protect you, is the key. I am bored now, I am bored now All to help our N.H.S I am bored now, does not matter To protect you, is the key. Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Thursday nights I thank you all All the carers, all the sharers Thursday nights I thank you all. We are staying, we are staying Home again, who could foresee? We are staying, in our own homes To protect you, is the key. Oh Lord, to protect you, soon be free Oh Lord, to protect you, soon be free Oh Lord...
Johnny Mac (sung to when I'm 64 by Lennon-McCartney) In Billinge town there is a nice man with a baldy head He is the cheekiest old bugger that we know And all the people that come and go Stop and say hello. In his hall he has a Saints scarf which he just adores The Wigan warriors laugh at him behind his back But this is our Johnny Mac And he doesn't care, very strange. Johnny Mac is in our hearts and in our eyes Here beneath the Covid 19 skies We sit, and meanwhile... Back in Billinge, his three daughters, and the lovely Chris Kids photos by the hundred on his phone He's not a man who likes to be alone He is not alone. Johnny Mac is in our hearts and in our eyes Rather have his curries than his pies For dinner, meanwhile back... The bar is open in the garden of his lovely home The pretty Chris is serving brandies on a tray Gang of Four would love to come and play But not today. In his house, he is searching on the internet He is planning yet another holiday But then Boris rushes in And says, "Not today," very strange. Johnny Mac is in our hearts and in our eyes Here beneath the Covid 19 skies We sit, and meanwhile... Johnny Mac is in our eyes and in our hearts Dirty jokes and sneaky little farts Johnny Mac. Happy 70th birthday john McDonnell !
